


Useful and Used

by glymr



Series: The One Where [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The One Where Tim imprints on Luthor instead of Dick, and winds up working on a certain project...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Useful and Used

**Author's Note:**

> A series of unrelated stories, each based on a prompt that began, "The One Where..."

Part I

His parents canceled the trip to the circus when they heard Mr. Luthor would be in town and invited him to dinner instead. His mother wore her best jewelry. His father spent hours on the preparations.

He was fascinated by the way the light glinted off the man's head, by the smile in his eyes as he spoke to mom and dad. Tim was drawn to him. After dinner the man ruffled his hair as Tim stared up at him with big eyes. And Mr. Luthor spoke to him then, not like a child, but as if he were an adult, an *equal*.

Tim never forgot it.

Now Tim's the head scientist on the most important, most secret project at Lexcorp. He's fifteen years old, and he's been working for Lex Luthor for two years.

He inspects number thirteen again and makes a notation on his clipboard.

Lex (he still warms at the memory of Lex's hand on his shoulder..."Tim. Please, call me 'Lex'," he'd said with a smile), is right about Superman. The world *needs* a Superman, but one that isn't such a loose canon. One that can be *stopped* if he gets out of control.

Tim knows that Lex is using him. Tim's not an idiot. But he doesn't really mind. He likes being useful. It's all he's ever really wanted. Besides, being useful to...or even used by...someone as brilliant as Lex Luthor is a privilege and an honor, as far as he's concerned.

Number thirteen may just be the one. Tim looks at its face, eyes closed as it soaks in knowledge and grows. Suddenly, Tim's heart skips a beat.

It looks a little like Lex. The jawline, the high forehead...it's subtle, but it's there. It's not just a clone, he realizes suddenly. It's going to be a _person_.

A _person_. A person that is, for all intents and purposes, the son of the man he's idolized almost his entire life.

A strange, desperate yearning sweeps through him, unexpected and unwanted. The clipboard slips from his fingers with a clatter. He lifts his hands and touches the glass separating them, and a part of him is glad that it's late and no one else is there to see his moment of weakness.  
  
 No one, that is, except the clone, who opens his eyes and blinks several times before giving Tim a radiant smile.

 

Part II

It...he...lifts his hand and puts it against Tim's, palm to palm, only the glass separating them.

Tim almost imagines he can feel the warmth through the thick glass. He can't...he can't _breathe_...

Darkness closes in on his vision, dizziness overwhelming him. He's going to hit the floor *hard*, but instead there's a crash and drenching liquid over his legs and he's caught, _held_.

"Hey! Hey! Are you okay, man?"

Tim opens his eyes. The clone is staring down at him, looking frightened. "You just turned white and passed out, dude. It was way freaky; your eyes rolled all the way back!"

"I'm sorry," whispers Tim. He forces himself to breathe, to oxygenate his body and brain. He feels like his mind is trapped in molasses. The...he's early. Tim has to, he has.

"Do you need some, like, water or something?"

"No." Think. Think. "Can you recite 'Jabberwocky', by Lewis Carroll, please?"

The boy blinks. "Uh, _now_?"

"Please."

"Okay. ' _Twas brillig, and the slithy toves'_ ," he starts, and Tim mentally ticks off each line in his mind. The poem is a series of signposts; each phase of his education was wrapped with another line of the poem. The boy keeps going until he gets to, " _The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!_ " Then he hesitates, stops. "It feels like...there should be more," he says, frowning.

" _He left it dead, and with it's head/He went galumphing back,_ " finishes Tim for him absently. "And two more stanzas after that." Two and a half stanzas, ten parts of the program, including the all-important 'kill-switch'. Tim stares at the clone's face.

"Uh, so, what's your name?" he... _it_...asks.

"Tim," he replies. He's early. He's _early_. What will Lex do? What if he decides to...terminate the project?

Tim bites his lip. Part of him wants to scream at the boy to run away, to get away, save itself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shakes himself and pulls out his cell phone, sickened by the magnitude of the betrayal he'd been considering - is still considering, in a corner of his mind.

He dials a number Lex made him memorize a long time ago, but which he's never had occasion to use.

"Yes?" Lex doesn't even sound sleepy.

"Thirteen has...is early," he says into the phone.

A moment of silence. Then, "Signpost?"

"Through 'The vorpal blade went snicker-snack'."

"I see. Recommendations?"

Tim feels like his lungs are too small. "I believe it's...salvageable."

"Oh?" There is a wealth of meaning in the syllable.

"Sir." Tim swallows. "It's your...he's your _son_."

Silence, and then a faint sound, as an intake of breath. "Can you keep him there?"

"I believe so."

"Use the kryptonite if you have to."

"I don't...believe that will be necessary."

"I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, sir." Tim hangs up and looks at the clone. "Are you hungry?" he says.

"I'm starving!" He looks at Tim hopefully. "Can we get pizza?"


End file.
